After that night, when he walked out, she fell gravely ill.
Even so, he never came to see her.
He had finally given up on her completely, she thought. Fine clothes, fine food, wealth and honor, he had given her all of it. Having come this far, what more could she have the nerve to ask for?
Yun'er watched her grow sicker and sicker, until it looked as if an ordinary cold might turn into pneumonia. Now she would not even take her medicine. Frightened, Yun'er had no choice but to go and fetch Jiang Manlin.
When Manlin came, even she was startled by how haggard Qingqing looked. "Qingqing, you've gotten so thin."
Manlin was the only friend she had ever had in the opera troupe. She was gentle and obedient, and the master's favorite. Qingqing was different. She sang beautifully and memorized lyrics quickly, but she had a stubborn temper and had grown up under the master's beatings and scoldings. Whenever she was punished and came back to find no supper left for her, Manlin would roast a buckwheat bun on the little white stove and hide it away to give to her later.
After Qingqing left the troupe, Manlin became its star.
The moment she saw Manlin, her tears fell.
There was no need to say anything about Yu Mingxuan's marriage to Jun Minru. Manlin knew every detail of it.
Manlin did not speak of it again. She brought over the medicine and fed it to her. "Whatever happens, your health is your own, Qingqing. Don't do anything foolish." She held the bowl to Qingqing's lips. Qingqing lay in bed as one large tear slid down and soaked into the pillow. Manlin hurried to wipe it away with a handkerchief. On her wrist was a bright green jade bracelet, and as it brushed Qingqing's face, burning with fever, it left a patch of cool, smooth relief.
Manlin stayed several days and looked after her, boiling the medicine and feeding her meals herself, with every possible care. Gradually Qingqing recovered. Her spirits were still low, but she was much better than before, and only then did Manlin leave.
One evening Yun'er helped her out to walk in the garden beside the little house. It was midsummer. The garden was a riot of color, the plants thick and lush, the grass deep and green, and a faint fragrance of flowers drifted through the air.
She sat for a while in the garden pavilion. As she started to stand, everything suddenly went black. Something heavy seemed to drop straight down out of her body, and she fell headlong to the ground. Just before she lost consciousness, she heard Yun'er scream: "Oh! Blood, so much blood!"
The tiny embryo inside her, whose existence she had not even noticed, was gone. She suffered for a full day and night, in such pain she could hardly breathe, and she thought she would surely die. In her half-conscious state she heard his voice right beside her ear. Like a drowning person grasping a lifeline, she stretched out her hand desperately and called his name. "Mingxuan, Mingxuan..."
No answer came from him. Instead a woman's voice reached her: "Miss, how are you?"
She struggled to make out that it was Yun'er. Her teeth chattered with pain as she asked, her voice shaking, "Where is he?"
"The Corps Commander has gone."
Her hand dropped hopelessly onto the sheet and clutched it so hard that her fingers turned bluish white. Cold sweat covered her forehead. Another wave of pain tore up from her abdomen, and her whole body curled up, shuddering. "What did the doctor say?"
"The doctor said... the doctor said it will probably be very hard for you to have children again, Miss," Yun'er said, her voice thick with tears.
That one sentence was all she heard. A harrowing cry rose from the depths of her heart. Such despair! It felt as though a boulder had been hurled at her head, the sky and earth cracking open, her body reduced to powder. In an instant she plunged into hell-black darkness and knew nothing more.
Now she was afraid of the cold, and her body was extremely weak. Autumn had only just begun when she put on the broken-cloud shawl, which was meant for late autumn. It was long, with fine tassels hanging to her ankles. She wrapped it tightly around her thin body and curled up on the sofa like a silkworm sealed in its cocoon.
She counted the ginkgo leaves falling outside the French windows, watching the small golden leaves drift down from the tree, one, two... Sometimes the counting lasted a whole day. She had nothing but time.
Jiang Manlin never came to see her again, but Qingqing could still hear her voice on the radio, soft and tender, singing "A Stroll in the Garden, a Dream Disturbed."
Manlin had risen so fast that she was now the foremost celebrated actress in Jinling. Who in all of Jinling had not heard the name of the kunqu star Jiang Manlin?
Yun'er tried to persuade her. "Miss, you've been shut up at home for more than two months. Why not go out for a walk and get some fresh air?"
She did not want to move, but she could not hold out against Yun'er's urging. "Even just sitting in the car and looking at the scenery would be good."
In the end she went out. It was early evening. When the car reached Full Spring, the biggest theater in Jinling, Yun'er quickly told the driver to stop and said to her, smiling, "Miss, why don't we go in and hear an opera?"
The driver said, "Look how crowded it is. If you go in now, there probably won't be a seat."
"How do we know before we've looked?" said Yun'er. "Let me go and see."
Yun'er actually found a box on the second floor. She helped Qingqing in and seated her, then shelled some almonds and brought them to her on a handkerchief, and hurried off to pour some warm tea. Qingqing had taken only one sip when a clatter of gongs and drums rang out from the stage. She looked up and saw "Du Liniang" make her swaying entrance. With her first note she won a roar of approval from the whole house, and applause thundered through the audience.
She remembered that when she and Jiang Manlin had studied opera together, the master was always criticizing Manlin for too much worldliness in her singing. In kunqu, elegance is the soul, and worldliness is the worst fault. Otherwise, how could it be called the "water-polished tune"?
But the master surely never imagined that Manlin would come this far.
Half the performance had passed when a stir broke out in the noisy audience below. She looked down without thinking, and her heart gave a sudden jolt. Several aides were escorting him upstairs. He went straight to the box opposite hers. The theater owner, all smiles, hurried over to greet him in person and brought a lighter to light his cigarette.
He waved the man off impatiently, and the owner wisely withdrew.
On stage, Jiang Manlin was still singing softly and tenderly: "The peony is lovely, but how can it claim first place when spring has gone? Idly I gaze: the swallows' chatter is bright as scissors, the orioles' notes round and liquid..." On the last line she flicked her water sleeves and swept a gaze full of feeling toward the second-floor box, half-spoken, half-withheld, a look of tender glances and a spring breeze on the face.
He smiled faintly and began to applaud.
On her way downstairs she could not see the steps and almost fell. She had to grip Yun'er's hand tightly to stay upright. The ground under her feet felt like a soft sponge, swaying. She felt sick, as if something were rising in her chest. When she reached the bottom she heard two spectators talking. One said, "It looks like Madam Jiang is leaving the stage. The rest isn't worth watching. Let's go home."
The other said, "We're only at 'Mountain Slope Sheep.' There are several more scenes. Why would she leave now?"
The first man laughed under his breath. "You have no eye for these things. Look upstairs. The Yu family's eldest son has arrived. Of course Madam Jiang is in a hurry to go to his little villa and sing 'Mountain Peach Red.' She has no time for your 'Mountain Slope Sheep.'"
It was Yu Mingxuan who had lifted Jiang Manlin to fame. To win her smile he spent money like water and would do anything. Wherever Manlin sang, in whatever theater, Yu Mingxuan was sure to be sitting in a private box. He even had records made for her so that she would shine everywhere, in public and in private.
Meanwhile Lan Qingqing, living in her little house, had long since been cast aside and forgotten, a passing cloud.
She had never expected Manlin to come looking for her.
It was early winter. Qingqing had caught a chill and had not been able to eat since morning, and Yun'er did not know what to do. Toward evening Manlin arrived in a jade-green brocade cloak. She took it off as soon as she came in and brushed the snow pellets from her clothes with a handkerchief. Then she said with a bright smile, "Qingqing, I've been so busy lately that I couldn't come to see you. Don't blame me. In my heart I've always been thinking of you."
Yun'er was too angry to hold her tongue. "If you were really thinking of my mistress, you wouldn't have done those 'good deeds.'" Manlin froze for a moment, then laughed. "My, this girl is full of resentment."
Qingqing said quietly, "Yun'er, go and make tea."
Yun'er still looked indignant, but she obeyed and left the room. Manlin swayed over to sit beside Lan Qingqing and said softly, "Qingqing, I know you've been wronged."
Qingqing said nothing. She wanted to see how Manlin would play this scene out.
Manlin sighed. "I never expected he would take a liking to me..." She left the sentence unfinished, glanced at Qingqing's face, and went on quietly, "We women have such bitter fates. We can't decide anything for ourselves, and yet we're so foolish. We know very well that few men are sincere, and still we fly into the flame like moths and deceive ourselves."
At this point Manlin smiled again. "But he really is sincere with me. Not long ago his father quietly arranged to send me out of Jinling, and I couldn't resist. Luckily he came after me halfway and rescued me. Only later did I learn that he had quarreled so badly with his father over me that the two of them were at each other's throats."
She could not help laughing as she went on. "He was like a child. He stayed at my place and refused to go home. In the end his father's aide came looking for him, and only then did he leave. Do you know what that aide called me the moment he saw me?" She paused, the corners of her mouth lifting. "He called me Second Madam."
Qingqing sat there and turned her head slightly. Two lines of hot tears rolled down.
"Oh!" Manlin hurriedly took out her own handkerchief and wiped them away. "Qingqing, I know your heart is bitter. In a few days I'll go and plead with him on your behalf. I'll ask him to let you go."
Her heart was bitter. "Then I really must thank you."
Manlin squeezed her hand and nodded. "Don't worry. He does listen to me a little."
It felt as if ants were gnawing at her heart. She could not hold back the tears. Just then she heard hurried footsteps outside, steps she knew very well, and faintly Yun'er's voice: "Corps Commander."
Manlin's face had changed.
Her heart tightened at once. She looked up and saw him stride in from outside, his personal aide behind him. He was furious. His eyes swept the room and landed first on Jiang Manlin.
He said coldly, "Who told you to come here?"
Manlin had already composed herself. She stood up calmly and smiled. "What? I'm not even allowed to visit my own sister? You can ignore her, but I'm not as heartless as you."
His expression froze coldly. He glared at Manlin, then suddenly strode forward, seized her arm, and dragged her outside. Manlin had not expected it. She did not even have time to take her cloak before he pulled her out. As she went she kept protesting, "Hey, why are you losing your temper? At least let me say goodbye to Sister Lan." Her voice faded as their footsteps receded.
Qingqing sat there from beginning to end without moving once.
After the commotion, the room was even quieter than before.
Yun'er stood dazed beside an arched pillar. After a long while she lifted her head timidly to glance at Lan Qingqing and said softly, "Miss."
Lan Qingqing turned her head and looked at the few plum branches stuck carelessly in the cloisonné vase. Slowly she reached out and straightened them, arranging them with varied heights and angles. The vase of plum blossoms did look much better than before. Suddenly she asked quietly, "What is there to eat in the kitchen?"
Yun'er was startled. After a moment she said, "There's millet porridge, just cooked. I was afraid your stomach couldn't take it after so many missed meals, so I had Nanny Zhang add lotus seeds and red dates. It's very nourishing."
Lan Qingqing took out her handkerchief and gently wiped the tear stains from her face. Then she smiled slightly. "Millet porridge sounds good. When I was learning opera from the master, we only got a meal on the day we performed, and it was nothing as fussy as yours."
She rose from the sofa and said to Yun'er, "I'm hungry. I want to eat."
It was snowing. Jiang Manlin slipped and stumbled at every step as Yu Mingxuan hauled her to the car. The door slammed shut almost against her face. Before she could catch her breath, he got in from the other side, his expression so icy it was frightening. The aide had already climbed in and sat in front. He told the driver, "Drive."
The car started moving. Manlin, a little steadier now, turned and looked at him, and gave a cold laugh. "What is it? I've stabbed you in the heart, and now you're unhappy?"
The words were barely out when he raised his hand and slapped her hard. The blow was so heavy that her head struck the seat in front of her. Her ears rang, her mouth filled with a sweet, bloody taste, and half her face burned. He yanked her back, his eyes full of menace. "If you dare go looking for her again, I'll have your life!"
Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth, but she faced him without fear. "Now I finally understand. You've been harming me. You meant to harm me all along!"
"You should have known."
She smiled bitterly. "You planned it from the start. The better you treated me, the worse my death would be!"
He said calmly, "You owe me a life. You should die in her place."
Manlin had already thrown everything away and feared nothing now. She said savagely, "Who owes that life? Go home and ask your father. He could even do it to his own grandson. I only acted on his orders. But if I die, I'll become a vengeful ghost in hell and curse your Yu family to have no descendants."
She had thought these words would enrage him even more. She never expected that when he heard them, he instead let go and shoved her aside. She was like a cat that had spent all its strength, curled up there, panting, unable to move.
He turned to look out the window. Outside was endless night, which seeped into his eyes and turned them the color of gray iron.
A few days later, Lan Qingqing telephoned his aide and said she wanted to see him.
The aide was awkward about it. "Miss Lan, the Corps Commander has already volunteered to lead troops to the Luping front. He's been very busy these days..."
She said, "Tell him to come. I have only one thing to say to him. It won't take long."
He came at night, in heavy snow. New Year was near, and fireworks and firecrackers sounded here and there in the distance. He walked straight into the bedroom and found her standing by the window watching fireworks, her face calm as still water.
He turned and sat down on the sofa. "What did you want to see me about?" he said coolly. He took out a cigarette and bit it between his teeth, then pulled a match from the box and prepared to light it.
She turned and looked at him. Quietly she said, "I want to leave you."
The match stopped on the striking surface. For a long time he did not strike it.
His expression suddenly froze. Wind howled outside the window, yet the room was utterly still. She walked over silently, took the matchbox from his hand, struck the match alight, and cupped the small flame in one hand and held it up before his eyes.
The firelight laid bare everything in his black eyes, with nowhere to hide.
She was stunned for a moment. Then tears welled in her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. Afraid that this one look would shatter the last of her courage, she flung the match away and backed off several steps. "If that's how it is," she said, choking, "why did you treat me this way?"
He rose from the sofa and looked at her tear-streaked face. After a long while he suddenly smiled slightly. "I don't want you anymore anyway."
Her tears fell like scattered sand, and her heart felt cut by knives. Yet when she heard his words, she lifted the corners of her lips and said softly, "Good. That's truly wonderful."
A tear slipped into her mouth, and its bitterness spread across her lips and teeth.
She had already packed her things, which were downstairs. Having said that, she turned and walked quickly to the coat stand, took her cloak, and put it on. He stood right behind her. The cloak's buttons were tiny, shaped like jasmine flowers, and for some reason she could not fasten them. Her fingers kept trembling.
She gave up on the buttons and went straight to push the door open. Her hand had only just touched the knob when another hand pressed down on it. He pulled her tightly into his arms. She struggled desperately to pry his hands away, but could not. Neither of them said a word as they fought, and he dragged her back from the door.
Her anger and grievance only grew. She hit and kicked him and cried, "Liar! You liar!" She bit down on his wrist as hard as she could, until she tasted blood between her teeth. His body went rigid, but he still did not let go. Her hot tears fell in torrents.
He said, "Give me one last night. After tonight I'll let you go."
Burning inside, she said furiously, "You shameless man!"
The night was like thick ink splashed across the window, and the shadows of the two of them were cast upon it. Her cloak had long since fallen to the floor. She tripped over it, and with the force of his body behind her they fell together onto the bed. She fought with all her might to get out of his arms, but he held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. With one hand he gripped her chin and kissed her hard. He had already torn open the buttons of her qipao, and his cold palm slid recklessly across her bare skin. If this went on, the result would still be her total defeat.
She grew truly frantic, making muffled sounds and beating at him wildly with both hands. Suddenly he raised his head and called out hoarsely, "Qingqing..."
Her hands pressed hard against his chest. In her eyes was his firm, strong face, but the look in his dark eyes was the despair of a dying man. She had never seen him like this, like a fragile child about to lose everything. Strands of pain gathered silently in his eyes and made her heart ache in wave after wave.
Her hands went limp without a sound, and tears rolled down from the corners of her eyes.
At noon the next day his aide came to see her. "Miss Lan, the Corps Commander has some things for you."
She sat in the parlor and listened to the aide. "The Corps Commander is leaving this house to you, Miss Lan. The title deeds are all here." He spoke slowly, taking papers and documents one by one from his briefcase, along with a small seal with her name carved on it. "The Corps Commander has deposited two hundred thousand silver dollars for you at the Jinling Bank. With this seal you can withdraw the money at any time."
When he had finished, the aide added politely, "The Corps Commander also asked me to pass on one message to you."
She raised her eyes to him. "What message?"
"From this day on, life and death, marriage and betrothal, none of it concerns you and me."